


The first lesson

by sunnyshine10



Category: DSMP - Fandom, Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Author is a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Heavy Angst, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Like it gets gorey, Whump, temporary death like for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 13:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyshine10/pseuds/sunnyshine10
Summary: The first time Sam teaches Dream a lesson in the prison doesn't go well for Dream. What else would Sam do with a pickaxe named The Warden's Will Breaker?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude
Comments: 1
Kudos: 158





	The first lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned there's lots of gore in this so turn away now if you can't handle it.

At first it felt like nothing, he looked at his leg, it didn’t register yet that a pickaxe has cleaved through it, the point sticking out the other end along with bits of bone and flesh. Then he could feel it. Something going through his skin cold and metal, slightly humming with the enchantments that ran through it, bits of bone scattered around it. Finally, there was the pain. It was white-hot and searing. The breaking of skin, the shattering of bone, the snapping of tendons and tearing of muscles. His nerves fired frantically and he screamed. The scream tore itself out of his chest and burned on the way out, it was bloodcurdling even to him. He tried to wrench his leg away but it did nothing to dislodge the pickaxe firmly planted in it, there was no escaping. All that happened was he jostled it sending fresh agony burning up his limb. He could feel his muscles being wrenched out of place poking out of the exit wound spilling his blood onto the floor, overstrung fibers wrapping around and snapping against the side of the pickaxe.

“This is what will happen if you try to escape,” Sam growled his voice overflowing with spite. He twisted the pickaxe before pulling it out with a sickening squelch bloody viscera following it. The muscles rearranged into unusable locations, ruined. Dream heaves his arms shaking then giving out. His back hits the floor as Sam reaches down and grabs the front of his outfit lifting him up so his feet hung inches off the floor. He placed his hands on Sam’s in a half-hearted attempt to push the guard away. He would still fight back even if he couldn’t help the way his breath shook and rattled choking on barely held back sobs. “Shut up.” Sam carried him to the front of the cell Dreams back burning against the lava. Dream bit his lip and looked at Sam searching his old friend’s face for something, regret, hesitation, anything. All he saw was the stony glower of the warden. Without prompt, he felt himself moving backwards. Sam took a step forward towards the lava and Dream felt the back of his shirt start to burn. The lava moved around Sam’s gloves sliding onto Dream’s shirt and rolling down his back in white-hot drops. He screamed and kicked his good leg, the other one too destroyed for him to attempt using it. “Shut up.” Without a second to think he was engulfed in the lava, he felt it fill his lungs drowning out his screams. It felt like every part of him was dying, he felt himself burning away at the edges, being disintegrated from the inside. The lava filled his lungs and he choked not even able to produce tears, every liquid in his body evaporating. His skin sizzles and bubbles like butter on a hot stove. The agony was intense and felt like nothing could end it; he would suffer until the world was over and the universe was dust.

He fell into the pool of water. His entire body shook, shivering from the sudden change in temperature. He looked up at Sam, who stared back down at him harshly backlit by the lava that had killed him seconds before. The effect was terrifying and imposing, Dream hated how it made him feel. The smell of his burnt body still lingered in the air. Dream thought about saying something, but there was nothing to say, nothing he could say. Sam walked over to him towering over Dream “Do not try to escape.” He turned around facing away from Dream “You are not allowed to have visitors. You need to think about what I taught you today.” He looks over his shoulder at Dream “Understand?” Maybe it was adrenaline from what had just happened, maybe he Something in him snapped. Dream heaved himself out of the water, he wobbled when he stood up, going from having a leg that was completely ruined to healed so fast. “What? That- that’s that’s unfair! You-” Sam whipped around and before Dream could say anything else the blunt side of his pickaxe slammed into his shoulder. Unprepared for the sudden attack Dream stumbles but doesn’t fall, he looks at Sam with wide eyes as Sam brings his pickaxe into Dreams leg for the second time that day. For the second time, his bone breaks and Dream collapses to the floor on top of the pickaxe embedded into it. Sam yanks it from under him dragging it painfully across his chest scaping skin in its wake. Dream looks at the growing pool of blood under his body. He lifted his head and looks at Sam, his vision is tinted red he doesn’t know if it’s rage or blood and he doesn’t care. He pushes himself up to sitting, gritting his teeth against the pain running through his body. He heaves himself toward Sam his momentum thrown off by a pickaxe slamming into his back, there’s a sickening crunch and Dream finds himself being lifted up by Sam. His head swims and his limbs feel heavy, he can’t tell if it’s from the blood soaking into his prison uniform.

“I'll do this until you learn to listen Dream. You can’t get any more visitors until I know that you won’t pull anything.” Dream looks at Sam, and for a second he considers spitting, cursing at him; but everything hurts too much, he can’t find the energy to. The fight has left him and is in the pools of blood on the floor. He nods and Sam brings him to the lava, it burns as he’s plunged into it and he gasps as the cold when he falls into the water. Sam looks down at Dream “No visitors for the week.” Dream bites the inside of his cheek and nods.

“Fine.”

Canon deaths are often considered the worst way to kill someone. To kill someone in such a capacity that a part of their soul dies, a bit of their will to respawn again is lost. That is considered the Ultimate Crime. Canon deaths leave scars, but they’re not the only way to get a scar. If you get hurt bad enough and heal without a respawn it will scar. Even upon respawn it stays; but that’s not the only way to get a scar. There’s a third way that’s less talked about, less known than the others. Respawn scars. If you get hurt in the same way and respawn enough your body forgets how to heal right. It’s not talked about because how often does someone die in such a way? And for those that do they won’t often talk about it. So it’s confusing to Dream when he respawns for the 10th time and his skin is littered with raised patches, discolored roots that spread and then disappear, unmistakably burn scars. He’s also confused when he finds his hands aren’t quite right.  
It’s after the warden’s latest visit, he’s sitting on the floor of his cell trying to bring himself down from the over-emotional high that always happens during his visits. He takes a book out of his inventory and starts writing. He’s on his third page when there’s a twinge in his hand. He tries to push past it but it keeps going and getting more painful until he has to drop the quill. He realizes what is happening once he respawns and can’t walk without a limp, the sides of his legs a crisscrossed mess of scars.

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is @Snapnaap if you wanna yell at me :)


End file.
